


Cinders

by LaughableLament



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bonus Scene, Brief suicidal thought, Community: salt_burn_porn, Episode: s02e02 Everybody Loves a Clown, First Time, Light Angst, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 09:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17557544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: Dad’s gone, Sam’s a mess, and it’s all Dean’s fault. (post-funeral comfort sex)





	Cinders

“Touch me.” Sam breathes in Dean’s mouth. Big hand, back of his skull and fingers dragging down his lip. Coyotes holler in the trees.

Fists ball; clothes stink like Dad’s ashes. Dad’s tailgate digs in Dean’s thighs. Head shakes. “Sam, what—”

Sam’s mouth slides cool against his. Hips rake. “What do you think?”

_Sam’s dick’s hard,_ that’s what. _Fuckin huge, too._ Knees break and Sam rides him down. Head thumps the truck bed.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” Sam palms Dean’s crotch. Dumb, stupid cock swells. “S’what I thought.”

Dean bucks into him. Sam groans. Dean drives him up. Teeth crash. Sam grinds, lets Dean spin him around, crowd him against the metal.

“Y’wanna do this now, huh?” Two-hand grip on Sam’s ass.

“Dean, I _always_ —”

“Shut up.” Dean twists fingers in Sam’s hair.

Sam gasps. Tips back and offers his neck. Dean skates teeth under his ear, nips at his jaw. Sam leg-hooks, rocks into him. Worms inside his jacket.

“Can I?” Sam nudges Dean’s sleeves off his shoulders. Dean steps back and his jacket falls. Sam stares. Lips shine; breath comes shallow.

Dean strips to his waist. Amulet bounces between hard nipples. Goosebumps. Spring-night cold ticked up since they doused the embers. Sam reaches. Feathers fingers over scars and lines.

“Huh-uh.” Dean takes his wrist. “Your turn.” Pulls Sam in. Strips him slow. Jacket, overshirt, and t-shirt. Dean pets. Strokes and kisses. Kid’s cut like Dean’s never been. California tan ain’t nothing but a memory.

Sam lays back and kicks his shoes off. Long legs spread. Moonlight shines off glass and Turtle Wax and Sam’s chest, sweat-damp in spite of the breeze. Dean slips between his knees, yanks him close. White waistband glows above Sam’s jeans and under his—Dean sucks his teeth—happy trail. Sam paws Dean’s arms, claws at his belt. Dean grabs on, laces their fingers and blankets Sam, pins his hands. Foreheads bump.

“I’m gonna take you apart, Sam.” Shock thrust makes him hiss. “Unless—”

Sam smashes into him. Lands a kiss that’s sixty-forty with a headbutt. Dean’s lip splits, bleeds and stings and Sam growls. Roots and licks behind Dean’s teeth. Wraps his legs around, half climbs Dean. Fighting. Buckles, buttons, friction, clammy heat. Sam roars. Dean tugs. Sam quakes under him, clings to him.

Dean cradles, kisses Sam. “We should—” tastes a nipple “—find a bed.”

Sam arches, bangs on the steel floor. “Got one.” Palms Dean’s jaw. “I—”

Dean bites and Sam yells.

“—need you.” Sam’s dick leaks, slicks Dean’s hand.

Dean noses his chest hair. Thumbs Sam’s nipple, feels him flex. “Sure like them titties played with, huh?”

Sam ripples.

Dean stands up. Tailgate’s killing his legs. Sam’s forehead scrunches. “Gonna find blankets.”

Dimples.

“And the-uh, the med kit.” Head tilt.

Sam’s eyes flutter.

Clothes pile grows, and Sam lays out. Socks and a smile. Hard, curved toward his belly. Sam strokes, lazy and loose.

Dean kneels between his thighs, rubs up and down. “Which-uh. Which way you want—”

And he curls up like a fuckin pill bug, spreads wide.

_Guess that answers that._ “You wanna…” Roll-over gesture.

Head shakes. “I need to see you.”

Dean nods. Swallows.

He gets the slick—some kind of burn salve; he checked the ingredients—squirts a glob out on his fingers. Sam moans. Eyes track his moves. Dean rubs a hamstring. Warms the lube. Sam squirms. Body begs. Dean trails wet around Sam’s hole, teases his rim. Sam cusses

First fingertip slips in; Sam vibrates. Dean fucks shallow, slow til his knuckles disappear. Sam pants, chants Dean’s name and rides his hand.

“Fuck, Sam.”

“More. Please. Dean.” Sam stares up, deep-creased brow and dark-flushed cheeks.

_Never could_ … Dean spears him. Sam jerks, groans and wilts a little. Dean pulls back. “You hurt?”

“Just…” Sweat pools between his collarbones. “Don’t stop.”

Dean adds lube. Twists his wrist. Drops between Sam’s knees to kiss his belly. Sam’s cock bumps and smears his chin. Dean thrusts, curls and snakes. Sam roars, dick jumps, and Dean drives, slicks and stretches. Works Sam’s hole while he mouths everywhere he can reach. Knees, thighs, abs.

Dean cranes up, catches Sam’s lips. “You good?”

Sam nods.

Third finger slides in, blistering tight. Sam rumbles; insides tremble. Dean licks Sam’s cock, root to tip and Sam arcs. Ass lifts, heels slam, fists clang. Muttering. “Dean,” and “need” and “please.”

“Anything, Sammy,” Dean breathes.

Sam bends himself damn near in half. Hands on his shins, white knuckles. Dean hooks Sam’s legs over his shoulders. Lifts and lines up. Sam rants, quiet.

Dean dips in. Sam’s hole clenches. Sweetest squeeze. Dean grits teeth and hollers. Sam shifts, takes him, sucks him in. Dean sweats. Gonna go off like a virgin if Sam keeps wringing his dick like this.

“God.” Sam grips Dean’s shoulders. Hard exhale and Dean sinks. Hips connect and foreheads knock. Dean burns. “Wanted you. So long.” Tears leak out Sam’s eye corners and Dean can’t look at that. Sam’s mouth gapes, pink and shiny. Jaws flex. Tight lines strain his neck. Hair sticks to his face and his chest heaves on thready breaths. Sam surges. Dean jolts and Sam lifts up, head falls back.

Dean’s gotta move or lose his mind. “Sammy you—”

“Please, Dean.”

Hips kick.

“Fuck me.”

Dean’s air runs out. Sam huffs little moans every time he shoves in. Forearms shiver; thighs clench. Sam’s half fucking himself, bucking to meet Dean stroke for stroke. Dean jerks Sam’s cock, smears precome and lingering lube. Sam howls, convulses, pulls Dean over the edge right with him. Truck suspension squeaks and breeze shakes trees. Sam digs nails in Dean’s back. Dean locks on skin and sucks. Marks with his teeth. Fills Sam. Feels Sam, leaking his come already.

Sam grins, flips them, grips them both in one big hand and milks. Makes Dean a mess. Kisses, shakes him to his bones.

Dean rubs knuckles over itchy eyes.

Sam pulls blankets up around them, throws an arm across Dean’s waist.

“Dude.”

“Shut up.” Sam roots in. Breath washes warm. “We _are_ gonna talk about this—”

“Sam—”

“—about everything.”

“Yeah…” And Dean’s probably gonna eat a bullet. “Just, not now, huh?”

Sam nods.

Dean watches him nod off.


End file.
